


Back at the Glen

by Andauril



Series: Inquisition shorts & ficlets [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Hurt, Post Game, Short scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/Andauril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nheran Lavellan tries to deal with Solas' disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back at the Glen

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any grammer and syntax mistakes, as English is not my native tongue.

Once she had thought it would be easier the second time.

Now, she knew she had been a fool to believe it. She had been a child despite her years, unknowing and foolish.

And it seemed she was also a masochist … Why else should she have returned here, to the very place where he had left her and broken her heart? She should have known better!

For the most time, she managed to uphold the façade. She had never smiled often, so no one wondered when she didn’t laugh. She kept her composure. She was too old to break down and cry, even if she sometimes would like nothing better than to do so.

The Inquisition needed her. Even know, as everything was over. The sky was scarred, but healed. Corypheus was dead. The whole of Thedas looked up to her, because she refused to let them see how broken their _Herold_ truly was. She didn’t let everyone see that her heart was as scarred as the sky.

To know that the man she had fallen in love with had never been the man he pretended to be – whoever he had truly been – didn’t help. If anything, it ripped the badly healed scar at her heart open anew.

She let the report, which Leliana had given to her, slip from her grasp, watching as it sank in the pond. Tired, she watched it soak and sink to the ground.

“Here you are, bow! Looked for you everywhere!”

Once, the nickname had made her smile – which surely had been the reason why Varric chose it for her –, but know, she could not force herself to do it.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate lies you are a surprisingly good liar”, she heard the dwarf say. “Took me weeks to figure it out. And I bet, the others are still fooled by you.” Varric sat down beside her. “An advice, bow? Never fool to a liar. It never works.”

“I’m surrounded by liars, aren’t I?” She asked bitterly. “You, Iron Bull, Blackwall, …” She choked at his name, but was unable to force it over her lips.

“We all lie eventually, bow. Some of us just lie more often than others.”

“And some are nothing but lies.”

Even Blackwall, on his way to the Wardens by now, had finally found the courage to end his lie. He had been willing to give up his life, because he could no longer life a lie …

_“Whatever happens … I want you to know that what we had was real.”_

But he had never spoken the truth. How could she believe the very last words had spoken to her?

Finally, the Nightmare’s words made sense. _“Tell me, traitor. Your victory means nothing. Your pride will reveal that you are not.”_

She should have known at the time. But she had been blind and deaf, silly and clueless. She had wanted to believe him …

Part of her still wanted it: The foolish, childish part, the part of her, who still loved him, who called “I love you” and begged him not to go. Her foolish, childish heart which made a mockery of both her reason and all her experience.

“You know, bow, you don’t always have to be strong. Once you said to me that you’re just an ordinary person, like everyone else. Be that person.”

“I’m cursed, Varric”, she breathed, her voice trembling. “I get know someone, love someone… and then he disappears.” She was nearly whispering, half hoping he wouldn’t hear it. “It was this way with Nylan, and now again … It never ends.”

“Bullshit. You’ve fixed the bloody sky and you’ve kicked Corypheus ancient, blighted Tevinter ass. You’re not cursed. The boys will line up to court you.”

“Yes. But they all will just see the Inquisitor, the Herold. But not me. Never again.” Nheran touched her face, so bare and naked as if it had never worn the _vallaslin_. “Varric, once I believed I could someday return to my clan. But I can’t go anywhere.”

“Then stay, what’s the problem? I’m surely not the only one who’d be terribly sorry if you leave.”

Nheran sighed. Yes, maybe she should do that. Maybe Skyhold was the place where she did belong to now. The Inquisition. Where else should she go? There was no place for her among the Dalish anymore …

She just wished that Mythal would order her not to think of him anymore. Her freedom was a painful joke as it were.

It was not easer the second time.

It only hurt worse.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Nheran Lavellan is my first Inquisitor to romance Solas (I have a second one, in case you ask). She's a bit older - already 38 years - and she had a husband in the past, who someday disappeared. I had no idea that Solas would leave and disappear as well at the time I chose him to be her romance ... It turned out to be such a bitter irony, of course she has to think there's something wrong with her if her ... her men tend to disappear ... 
> 
> Also, she was a very proud Dalish, so giving up her vallaslin was a really big deal to her and the ultimate sacrifice - she was also deeply shaken after what she learned at the Temple of Mythal ... I think, she really regrets getting rid of the vallaslin in the end, but the choice is made and can't be undone. Which she knows. 
> 
> Also, I translated the sentences the Nightmore spoke to Solas in the fade: "Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas enar mar din."


End file.
